The Boy with the Blueberry Eyes, Part 2
by Michelle Valliere
My only child and nearly seven-month old son, Benjamin, my blueberry-eyed boy, blessed me this morning with the most wonderful gift, a quiet and tender moment shared together. What did he do? Something he has not done for some time: he napped on my shoulder, his cherub arms encircling me, his soft baby face buried in my neck. The moment remains fresh, my shoulder still damp from his sweet baby drool, the air around me still fragrant with his soft baby smell—a slice of heaven for this mom who thought these precious baby moments had slipped away without my recognizing their passing.
So this morning as he fussed at naptime, I lifted him from his crib and began gently rocking him in the nursery glider; it sits collecting dust these last few weeks since Benjamin decided he no longer needs naps on mommy’s shoulder (oh, how I have missed them!). Instead of arching his back in protest, reaching for his books on the nightstand, or trying to stand and jump up and down, he settled. Surprisingly, he relaxed and rested his head on my shoulder—I dared not move lest I disturb him. Before I knew it, to my delight and surprise, his rhythmic breathing and soft baby snores harkened a rare and precious moment.
While enjoying our snuggle-fest, I sat in Ben’s dimly lit nursery, rocking him and reflecting on how life has changed since he came. Busy, busy describes my life before, constantly moving, time measured by bell schedules, passing periods, and deadlines, rarely slowing down enough even in my free time to truly savor life’s moments. I didn’t even realize how hurried I was until last October, until he was born, and we came home from the hospital, and then I stopped—I settled. Motherhood does that—it forces you to stop … and nurse, rock, comfort, console, and fall in love with your baby. Being home with Benjamin gives me cause to pause and reflect; being a mother has changed my heart.